It's Always the Quiet Ones
by dennyj
Summary: Trouble offworld brings rescue from an unexpected source.


Written for the challenges, Geek Day and Whump Day, on the drabbles and Legends lists.

It's Always the Quiet Ones

by Denny J

Jack checked his watch for the third time, noting only ten minutes had gone by. He turned from where he was leaning against the doorframe of the large room and observed the three scientists examining what was left of the stone room. Peterson was sifting through the dirt on the floor, Mulroony was inspecting some scribbles on the wall, dusting them with a brush, while Daniel was examining something lying on a large stone table. You could hear a pin drop. He checked his watch again—two more minutes carved out of a two-day mission. Oy.

Why hadn't he gotten another team to babysit on this mission? He knew why: no way was he leaving Daniel alone with another team. Look what happened when he'd gone off with Rothman and SG-11. That had been months ago; what were the chances of something like that happening again? Pretty damn high, if you asked him.

So, when Daniel had requested a mission to study these ruins, Jack was reluctant to let him go.

_Jack, we've never come across an Inca-influenced civilization before._

_Daniel, it's not a civilization anymore, all that's left is a bunch of crumbling buildings._

Daniel had won, though, and that's when Jack had volunteered SG-1 to accompany them. Hammond had even okayed bringing in a new guy who was big on this Inca stuff. Mulroony hadn't spoken two words to Jack since the mission started. He was a bit like Rothman—a fish out of water when it came to military protocol, but that's the way Daniel had been in those early days. Daniel had been more sure of himself, though; not afraid to stand up for whatever he thought was right.

Peterson had been at the SGC for awhile, and had taken part in several archaeological missions. Both scientists seemed a bit uncomfortable around Jack, even more so around Teal'c. That was fine by him—let them be intimidated, it might keep them out of his hair.

"Achoo!" Mulroony sneezed and wiped his sleeve across his face, leaving a streak of dirt. He sneezed again, stirring up more dust, and again he used his dirty sleeve.

Two more sneezes followed and Jack couldn't take it anymore, moving across to Mulroony and grabbing his arm. "For cryin' out loud! Have you heard of Kleenex? Handkerchiefs? You're just pushin' more dust up your nose with that dirty sleeve."

Mulroony froze, looking from Jack to his sleeve as though seeing it for the first time. He looked back at Jack, giving him a nervous smile as he rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a Kleenex.

_God help me, I can't do this for two more days._

Mulroony went back to work and Jack glanced at Peterson and Daniel, who were still wrapped up in their work, oblivious to the exchange.

Jack turned back towards the door and stopped short. Filling the large arched doorway were a dozen men with spears.

"Uh, Daniel, I think we've got company."

Daniel looked up from the statue he was holding—the _golden_ statue—at least it looked that way to Jack. Light from the fading sun streamed through the window and flashed off of his glasses, his eyes going wide as he took in the group of brightly-garbed natives who filled the doorway of the ruined temple.

Jack leveled his P-90 at the obvious leader—the one wearing the tall feathered headdress and holding the golden-tipped staff. The rest of the natives aimed their spears at the SG members. They were outnumbered, thanks to Carter and Teal'c being off with two members of the scientific team in another part of the sprawling complex of ruins. That left Jack and Daniel –who had his hands full of statue—and Peterson and Mulroony. The two scientists had gone through training at the SGC, including using their firearms, yet here they stood, rooted to the spot, without even a thought for their weapon. What was it with geeks that they all seemed to lack a self-preservation gene? They were so screwed.

Well, he could always count on Daniel's diplomatic skills. Hell, the guy had even charmed an Unas! Jack flicked his gaze between his teammate and the group of angry-looking natives. "Daniel, you're on."

Daniel glanced at Jack and then down at the statue he held before slowly setting it back on the slab of stone that Jack had a feeling must be an altar. The leader of the natives took a step forward, waved his staff in the air, and uttered some angry words in a language that was unfamiliar to Jack. Good thing Daniel spoke a couple dozen.

Daniel raised his hands in a placating manner and said, "Hello. I'm Daniel Jackson. We mean you no harm." As he finished, he descended the two steps from the altar to the floor. There was a sudden rush of bodies, and before Jack could squeeze off a round from his P-90, he was stripped of his weapon, shoved to his knees and his hands tied. Peterson and Mulroony were similarly manhandled, but Daniel was grabbed by two of the spear-holders and held firmly while the leader approached him.

Leader spoke again, slowly and angrily.

"What's he sayin'?" Jack wasn't encouraged by the lines of concentration on Daniel's forehead.

"I'm not sure. The language isn't—"

The leader touched the tip of his staff to Daniel's forehead and he stiffened, every muscle tensing, his words choked off.

"Daniel!" What the hell was going on? Jack struggled to push himself up, but his burly guards easily forced him down.

The leader chanted some words while he waved the staff around Daniel's head. His teammate stood frozen, eyes wide and unblinking. With the leader's last word, he touched Daniel with the staff again. The golden tip briefly glowed, and Daniel went limp, held up only by the hands of the natives.

"Hey!" One of the guards cuffed Jack on the side of the head, knocking him over. Another native grabbed his arm and yanked him back up, then two of them dragged him to the center of the room where Peterson and Mulroony were also bound and on their knees. Jack exercised his sore jaw, relieved to find it still worked.

Two natives were now holding up a dazed Daniel, facing the leader, who was speaking again. Jack hoped Daniel wasn't too out of it to translate. Lines of concentration etched his forehead, and Jack could tell he was trying to understand what the leader was saying. Daniel's eyes suddenly widened and he went pale. He lifted his hands as far as he could with the guards holding them, and opened his mouth to respond. His jaw and mouth were moving, but nothing was coming out. Realization hit Jack at the same time it did Daniel—he couldn't speak.

It didn't keep Daniel from trying, though. His mouth worked furiously as the guards dragged him up the two steps towards the stone slab, which Jack was now sure was an altar. Daniel did his best to resist, but his feet couldn't find purchase on the stone steps.

"My God!" The whispered exclamation came from the man to Jack's left.

He turned to the scientist who was staring open-mouthed at Daniel's struggle. This was the guy Daniel said was an expert on this culture—what had he picked up on? "Mulroony!" Jack snapped, trying to keep his voice low. The man flinched and turned wide eyes to him. Crap—it wasn't good if your own people were more scared of you than of the enemy. "What's going on?"

"It… it must be a Huacas."

"What are you babbling about?"

"The statue—it's a huacas, an object that the Inca believed their deities resided in. Daniel was holding it when they came in, thereby defiling it."

"And?"

"Well, I'd guess they want it for one of their ceremonies. The Sapa Inca—the leader—is required to punish him in order to restore it to its sacred state. It's fascinating, really…"

"Fasci—" Jack clamped his mouth shut, jaw clenching as he tried to calm down. He could shoot the guy later.

The leader—the Sapa Inca—was speaking again and Jack turned back to see Daniel still fighting the natives as they pushed him to the edge of the table and made him bend until his torso was lying across it, arms stretched out in front of him. His mouth was still moving—it was second nature for him to keep talking, even if nothing was coming out. How terrifying to have your most formidable weapon taken from you—your voice.

What kind of punishment were they planning? Whatever it was, he couldn't sit by and just let it happen. "Let him go!"

The guard behind him placed his spear shaft across Jack's throat and pulled back, cutting off any further words. He struggled to breathe, but could still see Daniel watching him from the altar. The Sapa Inca pulled a long knife from his belt and held it up, chanting again. Two natives grasped Daniel's hands and pulled them tightly across the stone. It hit him like a punch to the gut—they were going to cut off Daniel's hands. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. _God, no. _

Daniel was panicking now, trying to wrestle out of the hands holding him down, mouth still moving in silent protest. The leader ascended to the level of the altar, held the knife up, and spoke several more words. Daniel's gaze met Jack's briefly, crystal blue eyes shining with fear, and then lifted to zero in on the knife. Jack's own vision began to gray as he fought for air. Maybe he wouldn't have to watch after all.

"Sayay!"

Mulroony's voice rang through the room and the Sapa Inca stopped and turned back to face him. The other natives were mumbling to each other, looking at Mulroony suspiciously. Jack felt the spear across his throat shift minutely, allowing him to pull in more air.

"Kumpah, wayqi," Mulroony continued.

Jack had no idea what the man was saying, but the leader apparently did. He spat back a couple of words, brandishing the knife from Daniel to the rest of them.

"Kusa kusa, hamawt'a," Mulroony replied, voice growing stronger, "noqayku qasi kawsay. Noqayku saliy Inti."

The leader's eyes widened in surprise and he said one word that was obviously a question. "Chiqaq?"

Mulroony also replied with a single word. "Ari."

Jack could see Daniel visibly relax, his eyes closing. Whatever had been said, it was apparently a good thing. The spear was removed from his throat and he was pulled to his feet. Hands fumbled with the ropes around his wrists and he was quickly freed. Daniel was similarly pulled to his feet, where he swayed, but the natives kept a firm hold, preventing him from going down.

Jack looked across at Mulroony who was rubbing his freed wrists. He glanced up at Jack and gave him a tentative smile, and then sneezed loudly.

Some things never changed.

~o~

The soft beeping of monitors was the only sound in the infirmary as Jack sat beside Daniel's bed, waiting for him to wake up. He looked down at his friend's hands, long, slender fingers splayed across the sheet. It had been too way too close.

Fraiser had checked all of them over when they'd returned, but Daniel got special attention. He still hadn't been able to speak after undergoing all the good doctor's tests. Then she'd shooed everyone out and said he needed to rest. Her typical M.O. when she didn't know what else to do for him. She was hoping, like the rest of them, that his voice would eventually come back on its own.

So Jack was here, waiting, hoping he hadn't heard Daniel's voice for the last time.

He still couldn't believe Mulroony had saved the day. They'd debriefed, minus Daniel, and Jack had been hard on the scientist.

"_Why didn't you speak up sooner?"_

"_Quechua has many dialects and this variety was even different from any of the ones still spoken on Earth. It took me awhile to figure it out. I… I'm sorry."_

Jack had backed off then. After all, the guy had gotten through to the leader, telling him they had come to honor their god, Inti, and that they only wanted to be friends. The Inca leader believed he was telling the truth because Mulroony spoke their language, and he'd allowed them to leave with a promise to return. Jack was the one who should be sorry. When was he going to learn not to make assumptions about people? Daniel should have taught him that.

His friend stirred, head moving and those long fingers curling. Jack leaned forward just as Daniel's eyelids fluttered open. Still there was no sound.

"Hey, Daniel. How ya feelin'?"

Daniel blinked a couple of times and wrinkled his forehead. "F… f… i…ne."

It was barely above a whisper, but it was there. Relief made Jack laugh out loud. "Fraiser might have something to say about that."

"O…kay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine—so are Peterson and Mulroony."

Mulroony took that moment to make an appearance in the infirmary. He spotted Jack and stopped in his tracks. "I, uh, I can come back… another time."

"S… stay." Daniel lifted a hand towards him.

Mulroony smiled at Daniel, obviously relieved to hear him speaking. He sobered when he looked up at Jack.

"Stay," Jack said. "After all, you're the reason we made it out of there. If it weren't for you, Daniel would be in a lot worse shape."

"Oh. Uh, thank you." Mulroony visibly relaxed, tension leaving his face and a small smile forming on his lips.

Daniel looked from Mulroony to Jack. He was whole—no lost voice, no lost limbs. And they owed it all to a quiet, unassuming geek.

"No," Jack countered. "Thank _you_."

~END~


End file.
